


Mallout: Drabble Collection

by PeacefulPhoenix



Series: Mallout [7]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Fluff, I missed some of those railroad folks whoops, Idk this is a mess tbh, M/M, Mallout, Modern AU, Road Head, Smut, There's a Hancock/Deacon chapter too, Valencock, aftercare!, collection, fun fact, pwp mostly, railroad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 17,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulPhoenix/pseuds/PeacefulPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of the various Mallout AU drabbles. Most are pretty short but I hope you enjoy! Some of these have never been uploaded before. Those will be marked with a star in the title. Each chapter will have a little description of the drabble and will indicate if the story is NSFW</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Happens When Hancock Goes Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick sends John out for milk. John is bad at doing as he is told.

Nick was taking Columbo out for a walk and wasn't feeling up to the drive to the grocery store which meant it was up to John. They almost always did it together and usually ate pretty healthy. They would get some sweets, sure, but nothing too outrageous.

That wasn't the case today.

You see, when John had lived with MacCready they had eaten absolute crap. Their cupboards were constantly filled with chips and kids cereals and pop tarts and cookies and soda and sweet breads. There was hardly ever a day they ate anything healthy like fruits and vegetables or milk. But today that’s all they needed. 

Instead, John found himself buying something like 20 boxes of cookies. They’d been on sale. Buy 10 and they’re only 1 dollar each! So naturally he needed to take that deal. The cheap candy in the checkout aisle called to him too. And the plush dog holding a heart from the leftover Valentine’s day stuff. 

Nick got home just after Hancock did, just in time to see him unloading the bags. For a moment he could do nothing but stand there and gape as Columbo ran up to greet his other owner. “What did you do?”

It only seemed to be then that it dawned on him just how much he had spent and he stared at the bags of groceries in horror. “It was all on sale…” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as his boyfriend.

“Did you even get the milk?” He got only a face palm in response. “How.” He couldn’t even bring himself to make it sound like a question. It just came out more as a disappointed statement. 

John pushed the hair back and ran a hand down his face before answering. “Okay so it was all on sale and I got distracted and you’re, like, 90% of my impulse control. And the dog was so cute okay? And I figured you needed more cute things in your life.”

Valentine shook his head but ended in a laugh. “I have all the cute I need already, John. Looks like we’re just going to have to eat a lot of cookies then, aren’t we?”


	2. The Moment Nick Realized He Loved Hancock (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has an a-ha moment when he realizes he truly loves Hancock. (Warning: road-head) (I feel like I need to screenshot this because seriously Nick wtf)

Everyone has that aha moment at some point. To moment where I love you becomes I am head over heels in love with you. All the times you’d said it before seem false, cheap. Now, you know what love really is. For some people, their aha moment is the way the light catches someone’s hair, the curves and valleys of their body as they float in the water, a plate of pancakes made from scratch, an innocent embrace, a first kiss. 

For Nick Valentine, his aha moment came with the probing fingers of his boyfriend. They laid innocently on his thigh as they drove, occasionally rubbing circles into his pants. They weren’t driving anywhere in particular - Nick’s anxiety about driving was acting up again and John had suggested driving in the middle of nowhere without so many people might help. So that’s what they did.

It was when the fingers dipped lower that the story leading to his aha moment began. At first he tried to think nothing of it. He was focused on the road and there were times when John would listen to music and space out. Valentine assumed this was merely one of those times.

He assumed that, that is, until the hand was cupped around his crotch, rubbing slowly and softly. 

“I’m already stressed and distracted enough. You really have to do that?” he said, voice breathier than normal. Focus. On. The. Road.

John laughed quietly and Nick didn’t even need to look at him to know the expression he was surely making. “Exactly. I’m trying to help you relax,” he replied in that low, husky voice he knew drove his boyfriend crazy. And, low and behold, it was working. 

Nick groaned softly as delicate fingers pressed just hard enough against the outline of his rapidly hardening dick that he could feel it through the jeans. “This- this is super dangerous, John.”

He didn’t have to finish the rest of the thought. John knew just what he was afraid of. There was the click of a seatbelt coming undone and then his boyfriend’s free hand was at his chin as the other continued its steady stroking. “I trust you,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to his jaw. It was soft and sweet and gone far too soon. 

As Hancock’s head moved down it brushed against the horn, causing it to go off. Nick jumped in surprise and sent his boyfriend’s head into the wheel again with a thud. “Oh god, John! I’m sorry! See, I knew this was a bad idea. You’ve already gotten hurt cause of me. Let’s just-”

His borderline rambling was cut off with a shallow gasp as his fly came undone. “Shut up and relax, Valentine. I’m fine and if you stop talking I’ll make you feel real fine too.” It was that dark, gruff tone he had trouble saying no to again. Not that he would have anyways. 

That was when his aha moment came. It was the way John’s lips wrapped around his dick, bobbing slowly up and down, soft tongue and hot, wet breath pulling the most delicious sounds from him. It was the way they were alone together in the steamy car on an empty road with nowhere to be, no reason to rush. It was the way John’s hair constantly fell like curtains in front of his face and how he continued to push it back, putting it all on the left then the right then back as he tried to keep it out of the way. It was the way he responded to Nick’s every whimper and groan and moan - drawing it out but in the most erotic, enjoyable, calming way possible. It was the way he, too, moaned when Nick’s prosthetic hand tangled in his hair, not directing or guiding, but holding on. It was the way his insecurities and fears melted away. It was the way John reached down to palm his own erection. It was how gentle he was, stopping or slowing any time Nick’s heart would race, constantly whispering praise around a mouth full of cock. 

It was all these things that suddenly dawned on Nick and he had his aha. It was in this passionate moment that he realized he was head-over-heels in love with his boyfriend. He never wanted to let go. He wouldn’t. The soft moan John purred out when his fingers tightened in the red-blond locks cemented the deal.


	3. The Story Behind the Arm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story behind how Nick got his prosthetic arm. Warning: Pretty graphic. I mean, he is losing his arm...

The world was spinning, moving all too slow and all too fast at the same time. Darkness lingered on the edges of his vision, moving in and out, threatening to drag him under. He wanted to let it. He was just so tired… Would it be that bad to let it? There was a reason he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t remember. His head was pounding. It was so loud!

The banging he had believed to be his head turned out to be what remained of his car door. Someone was trying to open it. And they were saying something. He could see their mouth moving but couldn’t hear them. It was too loud - the ringing, the banging, the voices. There were so many voices. 

It was a woman. She’d gotten the door open. Why was she upside down? “I’m going to get you out of there,” she promised, her face white as a sheet. What was wrong? What had she seen? “What’s your name?”

“Nick.” The pressure of the seatbelt against his chest suddenly dawned on him. He was upside down, not her. He had to get down, get the seatbelt off. But he couldn’t. “I can’t move my right arm,” he mumbled, a wave of nausea hitting him. “What’s happening?”

She didn’t know how to answer him. “You were in a car accident.” After a few moment of wiggling she was in the car, unbuckling the belt and helping him safely down and out. He thought perhaps now would be a good time to sleep. The black tunneling his vision was so inviting but her voice brought him back. “Stay with me, Nick. You need to stay awake until the paramedics arrive.”

A small crowd was forming around him. Parents were shielding the eyes of children, someone could be heard throwing up, others were just staring in horror. The woman who had helped him out was covered in blood. He tried to sit but spots of light filled his vision and he decided to stay laying. “Please tell me what’s going on,” he whimpered. His heart was racing and his breath was doing the same, trying to keep pace.

She just shook her head slowly, throat too dry to talk. She didn’t know how to tell him. There were a number of large, deep cuts across his face, crisscrossing his forehead and trailing across one eye. His whole face and much of the front of his shirt was wet with blood. One arm had a number of rather vicious slashes while the other had large pieces of metal and glass sticking out of it - and through it in some cases. The entire arm had been stained red and blood continued to pool around him on the street. 

He began muttering to himself, voice just this side of hysterical. “I just got my liscence 2 months ago. I’m only 16. I can’t die. I can’t leave Ellie!” He was unconscious by the time the ambulance arrived.

\--------------------

When Ellie saw her brother lying in the hospital bed her heart stopped. Were it not for the steady beeping of the machines hooked to his body, she would have thought he was dead. It had been a few days shy of a week since he got here and until now she had been too scared to come see him. Their mom had tried to hide the pictures of him - she was only 9 after all - but she’d seen them left open on the computer. 

The news articles had pictures of what he’d looked like right after. All the blood and metal and glass. She’d been told they’d amputated the arm but he looked dead in the pictures. Cutting off his arm wouldn’t make him less dead. 

“Nick?” She said it quietly. If he heard her, he didn’t react. His face was almost entirely purple and yellow and green with bruises, his right eye swollen shut. Stitches criss-crossed his face and from this angle she could only see his stump. Tears welled up in her eyes and her voice shook as she whimpered, “Nicky…”

She ran the rest of the way to his side and basically threw herself at his chest for a hug, bawling now. A grunt of pain escaped his lips at the impact and he opened his eyes, glancing down at her for a half a second before staring at the wall. His throat was too dry to speak and he felt the sting of tears in his own eyes, his throat shaking with sobs he refused to let free. He wanted so badly to wrap his arm around her - an arm he no longer had. He should be dead. Why wasn’t he? Why was God making him suffer like this? What about his family? Wouldn’t it be easier for them if he had just kicked the bucket?

It took him several minutes to realize that his sister’s sobs were taking the form of words now. “I was so scared! I thought we lost you! And I know I say you’re stupid and boring and I hate you but I don’t! I don’t hate you…” Nick gave up all pretense of control and began to sob too, reaching as far as he could with his remaining arm. It went just far enough to rest in her hair. He had no idea how he was going to make it through this, but he had to. For her.


	4. The Railroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Railroad family meets up to do some bowling

The crash of pins and bowling balls filled the air in the small bowling establishment where Desdemona, Deacon, Glory, Tom, and Drummer Boy were hanging out. Deacon worked there so it was a place the family came to pretty often. When they called themselves a family they usually got some pretty odd looks. Desdemona had adopted all of them, seeing in them the talents that most others failed to, that even they had failed to see.

Deacon had come to her first and for a while it had been just the two of them. Not too long after that Glory and Tom had joined the family - biological siblings themselves - and finally Drummer Boy. His real name had reminded him too much of his old life so Dez had let him change it. Legally, she was their mom but she saw them as equals and so they were.

But, of course, like all siblings, they had rivalries. For whatever reason, in Deacon and Glory, these rivalries came out strongest in bowling. Throughout the game they had been within points of each other.

Glory sent a bowling ball launching down the lane. When it made contacts with the pins there was a sound like an explosion that sent them all flying. “Top that, Deeks,” she taunted, strutting proudly back to the seat and sitting down with all the bravado of a supermodel.

He grabbed a rather light ball in comparison, tipping his glasses just enough to see over them and line up the shot. Tom hovered just behind him, fingers ticking as though he was calculating the math of the shot. Deacon ignored it with expertise that only came with time. “It’s not gonna work,” Tom muttered followed by a quick chastising from Desdemona as Deacon took a step back then forward then released the ball. 

It moved slowly in comparison, moving straight, aimed - it seemed - for the gutter. At the last moment it curved and connected directly with the right pin to knock them all over. Everyone waited with baited breath as the last pin spun and rocked. Drummer Boy held up his phone, obviously recording the whole encounter. It was the last frame and there was almost always an argument or fight after the game. If this pin didn’t fall, Glory won. If it did, Deacon won. 

It fell. The video Drummer Boy caught was going to keep him laughing for weeks.


	5. Nick sucks off John at work. That’s it. (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title's pretty straight-forward I think.

Nick couldn’t even remember anymore how he ended up here, in his boyfriend’s god awful store, while he was supposed to be working. The music was blaring way too loud and playing music he really wasn’t a fan of as always. Not to mention the customers, most pointedly avoiding the adult section and some proudly walking right up to it and asking John for his advice with those god-awful flirtatious looks. It drove him crazy!

He took a moment to reflect how on earth he’d found himself in this situation. Had it been the teasing snaps? The stories of customers flirting with him? The realization he wouldn’t see him at all during the day unless he came to visit? Who knows. All he knew was there wasn’t much space under this counter and he back was really starting to ache. 

It was all worth it though, to hear him desperately trying to choke off the moans. All that did, of course, was make Nick try harder. If he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s house, he was gonna be damned if he couldn’t at least hear him. So with that goal in mind he forced his mouth further down his boyfriend’s dick and there it was. 

A beautiful, strangled moan that cause John to bite into his hand. There must be a customer in the store still. A voice confirmed it. “Are you okay?” A girl’s voice to be more exact. Knowing he would try to respond Nick pulled back off, running his tongue around the head of his dick then along the slit. He didn’t hear a response so Hancock must have just nodded. Good. 

“Just stubbed my toe,” he eventually replied with a cough. He probably looked so hot right now with pink cheeks and lips parted just enough to allow him to gasp for air. The thought made Nick hum slightly against the sensitive skin. His prosthetic hand - now covered in an array of emojis from a sticker pack sold in the store - slid into his own pants, rubbing his growing erection as his other hand clutched desperately to his boyfriend’s hip. 

With each passing minute John came more and more undone, the customer still mere feet away from him. Nick had to admit he was getting pretty close himself, except… “I can’t get off to this damn music, John,” he muttered quietly as the song changed. The whine of frustration at the sudden lack of contact sure didn’t hurt though his chances though. 

“What?” he whimpered in return. “Nick, please you can’t stop.” He sounded so desperate and Valentine had so much trouble not just giving him exactly what he wanted. 

Instead he pressed kisses to the head then down the shaft of his cock. “Quiet down unless you wanna get caught,” he replied, barely more than a breath. “And change the damn song.”

It didn’t take him long to do as he was told and Nick was quick to reward him.

Just as he was getting to the edge the customer walked up. And there was that damn flirty voice again. John was his and he didn’t appreciate people trying to get in on his territory. To show just that, he sucked in hard, causing his boyfriend to draw in a short breath mid-sentence. “Will that- will that be all for you?”

Damnit. Now she was giggling! “Yes, thank you. I don’t suppose you’ve tried these before?” Did she really think he was flirting back? What was she even buying? Hancock’s hands shook as he rung her up. 

“I’ve tried a lot of stuff,” he replied, voice low and husky. Okay so maybe it did sound like he was flirting back. At least, it did until Nick took his whole dick in his mouth. He let out a moan turned cough and handed her the receipt and bag with one hand as the other kept his boyfriend’s head where it was as he came. 

With the store finally empty, Hancock allowed himself to let out a few nice, long, low moans as he came down from the high. Nick sat up, licking his lips and swallowing before Hancock dragged him up for a kiss. “We almost got caught, you know.”

Nick laughed and nodded. “Maybe if you weren’t so damn loud all the time it wouldn’t be so easy to tell. Sounds like you need more practice.”

“Hell yeah I do. You should come by work more often."


	6. Deacon self-discovery thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a thing I made for a friend where Deacon gets all introspective and shit

No one in this family was entirely functional. Deacon didn't have an delusion that he was. Glory had her violent outbursts, Tinker Tom was paranoid and obsessive, Drummer Boy was obsessed with order and found it easier to interact over a screen than in real life, Dez had serious anxiety issues and honestly? Who takes in 4 strays when they could, you know, not.

Deacon wished his problems were that easy to qualify. It would be simple if he knew what was wrong with him. He could control for that. But he didn't anymore. Had he really been abused? Had he really been part of a gang? Had he really had a family before this one? He didn't even know anymore. There was once he knew the truth from the lies but it had passed a long time ago. Stories he had so  
Delicately constructed made their way into his dreams, haunting him with events that had never happened.

It had been easy back when he had to lie to survive. Foster homes were hard to come by and harder to keep. Each time he would find himself in one, Deacon would mold himself into their perfect child. He would devise a backstory perfectly suited to make them want him. He would eat their food, dress the way they wanted, and speak how they did, all a clever ruse to let him stay.

It didn't work.

When Dez had found him he had been on the streets, scamming people of their wallets. He had tried the trick on her. It didn't fly. She had seen through the disguise so many others had fallen to. Deacon often wondered what she had seen. Was it the real Deacon? Who even was that?

What countless others had called compulsive lying, she called a gift. He wasn't sure who he believed anymore.

He was told to be open with the family - to be himself. It was easier said than done. Even the simple task of getting ice cream was hard. Did he like mint because Tom did and he would get it unless someone else liked it too or did he just like mint ice cream? Did he actually like pulling pranks with John and MacCready or was it the leftover persona he had donned for a fun-loving family he had lived with shortly. 

Behind his sunglasses, his eyes drifted shut. He was just so tired; tired of the lies and the gaps in memory and the uncertainty and the fear. He just wanted to know who he was so he could be who he wanted to be. Was that so much to ask? 

As if in answer, Drummer Boy rolled over in his bed in his sleep and mumbled, “Deacon.”

It wasn't his birth name. No one here went by theirs. In a way, it was another persona made to fit him into this crazy family. In another way, it was who he was now. He had been Deacon for years. Maybe now he just was his persona, now matter how fucked he might be. He finally was someone real.


	7. Hancock "I'm sorry" angst cause I hate everything *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excessive apologizing can be a sign of emotional abuse.

John’s toes bounced in his shoe as he stood the the pot, stirring the sauce he’d tried to make. It was more watery than he hoped and he kept stirring hoping it would simmer down. No luck so far. What a terrible recipe. He should’ve checked the reviews or found a better one. 

“Are you almost done?” Nick called from the table he’d just set.

He wasn’t. “Yeah, I’m sorry it’s taking so long.” Damn sauce. I’d have to do though. He couldn’t take any longer. This was supposed to be done, like, half an hour ago. He rushed to strain the pasta and spoon some sauce into each bowl, totally missing the ‘no worries, darling’ that Nick had replied with. Within 5 minutes, they were each sitting and eating. 

The first few minutes were filled with warm smiles and jokes until Nick mentioned, “You really a pretty shit cook, huh?” The lighthearted tone of voice flew right over John’s head as his world seemed to come to a halt. Was it… Was it really that bad? Shit? Sure it wasn’t great but he’d really tried! He had.

“I’m sorry,” he babbled out almost instantly, shoulders tense. “I can try to make you something else. Or order a pizza I guess. That might be better. I’m sorry.” His hands shook as he tried to take another bite of the pasta. Earlier it’d tasted fine but now all he could notice were the things wrong with it. 

Nick was giving him an odd look as he lowered the fork again, not touching the rest of his food. “It’s fine… I can still eat it.” He proceeded to do just that, an awkward silence now hanging in the air. It wasn’t a very common occurrence and paired with the way John seemed to hesitate before each bite he was understandably worried. 

For several long minutes, he tried to just let it go. John would tell him eventually right? But no. And at some point he couldn’t take it anymore. “Alright,” he started, putting down his fork and crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s going on? If you’re going to be all pouty all dinner I at least deserve a chance to help, don’t you think? Was it something at work?”  
John’s hands were visibly shaking now and his hair was falling into his face, preventing him from looking up at his boyfriend. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Nick rubbed his forehead in frustration, leaning back in his chair and recrossing his arms. “Didn’t mean to do what? Pout or have me notice?” Nick immediately regretted saying it when John looked up, tears in his eyes. In less than a second he was at his side, crouching beside the chair, real hand on his arm. It still made him uncomfortable to be touched by the prosthetic sometimes no matter how hard he tried to prove it didn’t. “What’s wrong?”

He hadn’t been able to hold in the sobs any longer when he felt his boyfriend’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Nick. I didn’t mean to ruin dinner.” He’d tried so hard and if he’d just been able to get over himself when he’d said he hadn’t liked it maybe he wouldn’t have ruined everything. They could’ve still had a good night. “I’m sorry I made you mad.” 

Nick just stared in a shock for several moments. Was that really what all this was about? Dinner? Of all the things- “I’m not mad at you and you didn’t ruin anything. We have dinner every night. It doesn’t matter if one goes badly.” It all began to click into place. “Oh, come here, honey.” John let himself be pulled to his boyfriend’s chest, tears soaking his shirt.

For several minutes nothing was said. Nick held his shaking boyfriend close. He didn’t even know what to say. What could be said? “I’m getting your shirt messy, I’m sorry,” John finally mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, sniffling and trying to stifle the tears.

Nick pet his hair, detangling it gently as he went. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize.” It’s not like it would stain and he had other shirts. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

It all clicked then. He’d vaguely remembered learning about something like this when he was in therapy. “Why?” He’d gone to help him cope with the loss of his arm but some of the others in his groups had been there for more real problems in his opinion - abuse, depression, anxiety, that kinda thing. 

The question seemed to baffle John and he sat up, rubbing away the tears still clinging to his cheeks and god it hurt Nick so bad to see him like this. “I- What?”

Nick’s finger brushed across his cheek. “Why are you saying sorry? What are you sorry about?”

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted and it suddenly seemed like he was 5 times smaller. “I don’t know why I do it, I just… I don’t want you to be mad at me and god I feel like such a burden.”

The tears started again though not quite as explosively as last time. “You’ll never be a burden to me. I love you okay? You did nothing wrong.”

John nodded and began to say, “Okay. I’m s-” He cut himself off and took a deep breath. “Fuck. Okay.” His hands still shook but he stood just a bit taller and seemed more in control. 

Nick left him only for a moment, returning with a glass of water which Hancock was quick to accept. “Are you gonna be okay?” He nodded, not quite seeming up to the task of words. Nick made a mental note to murder whoever had done this to his boyfriend before going to get him a blanket.


	8. Hancock's not the only one with issues (NSFW) *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Hancock are doin' some fucking when something goes wrong. (Wooo trigger words)

They were perfect for each other. It didn’t always seem like it, but they were. Nick certainly didn’t like the mess that John made and the reverse was true for him but they made it work. John had his bad days where he could hardly leave bed, shaking and scratching at the scars on his thighs. On those days Nick tended to abstain from wearing his prosthetic to avoid doing the same to his left arm. The phantom pains and movements didn’t stop but at least they couldn’t actually do anything. 

Nick, too, had bad days. There were the days where his hands or legs shook even though he felt fine, the days where taking a seat behind the wheel stole his breath away and locked his muscles, the days where he stood in front of the mirror and hated everything he saw - the arm, the pudge, his hair, the variety of scars - some self-inflicted and some a result of the accident and following surgeries. 

The worst were the days that everything was fine, until one little thing wasn’t. This was one of those days.

The lights were low, a soft glow of the moon, a half-dozen or so fake, flickering candles, and the neon lights of the alarm clock providing the only light of the room. The nails digging into and clawing down his back were the only thing that kept Nick grounded in reality. The heat and the sound of flesh-on-flesh mixed with the heavy breathing felt like something from a dream. 

John’s leg wrapped firmly around his back, pulling him closer and Nick’s single arm strained to support his weight as he pressed in closer to his boyfriend, dick lodging deeper and hitting that spot that had them both groaning in pleasure. “You don’t be careful or I might just collapse on you,” he warned, the humor in his voice barely breaking past the raspy note thick in each word. 

John was quick to reply with a laugh that quickly turned into a gasp of pleasure and by digging the heel of his foot into Nick’s back, pushing him even closer. “Mmm Nicky-” Each word dripped with lost breath and heat. “I don’t care as long as you just fuck me real deep.” His voice cut out in a sharp gasp before he could continue. “Yeah! Oh god, Nick! You’re fucking me so fucking good!” 

And then it hit. The one thing that would ruin his whole day had happened. A chill ran across his skin, leaving trails of goosebumps as evidence. His thrusts slowed to a stop almost instantly at the same moment that his arm started to shake and he collapsed to his forearm. Breath that had already been bated grew even more erratic and shallow.

It was nearly a minute before John seemed to notice, too caught in his own pleasure as he made up for the difference by rolling his hips to get the friction he so desperately needed. When he noticed, this too came to a stop. “Baby, what’s wrong?” John asked quietly, one hand reaching to cup his face. 

Nick flinched away from the brushing fingertips. This wasn’t her. And yet it felt too similar. “I- I can’t- I can’t,” he finally managed to bumble out before stumbling out of the bed, not sure where he was even going. 

John didn’t try to follow, sure it wouldn’t help after how he’d reacted earlier. Instead he propped himself up on his elbows and followed the shadowy figure around the room with his eyes, outline only distinguishable by the slight halo effect around it. “Please. Did I do something wrong?”

It was many long, silent minutes before Nick finally returned to sit at the edge of the bed, both men still very naked and beginning to feel quite exposed for it. The whole bed shook with Nick’s leg and John didn’t need to be any closer to know the rest of him was probably doing the same. 

When he replied, it was one word. “Jenny.” 

John didn’t know the full story but he knew enough to know it was a bad one. He knew it hadn’t ended at 17 when he told his mother it had. He knew how dependant Nick had become on her, that she’d used that against him, that he still got nervous because of it sometimes, that he still had trouble with mirrors on certain days. The fact that sex could trigger it was new. 

“What about her?” John asked, crawling to the edge of the bed to sit beside Nick, careful not to touch him. He wouldn’t even meet John’s eyes. “Did I do something that reminded you of her?” The choked gasp confirmed it. “Which part?”

The silence lingered so long he feared Nick had no plans to answer. “What you said. The- the way you said it. She used to-” He broke off with a shaky breath, clearly with no intention to continue. 

John made a note to never say it again - though he planned to ask when Nick was a bit more coherent what exactly it was. Realizing there was about a 0% chance they were going to finish what they started, John took the blanket from their bed and wrapped it around Nick as best he could. “It won’t happen again. I promise.” 

Immediately switching to aftercare mode, he wandered from the room, grabbing some snacks and water and returning in under 5 minutes to find his boyfriend exactly where he left them. “Let me make it up to you,” John said, offering the granola bar and glass of water. Nick nodded and took both.

Neither of them got a wink of sleep that night.


	9. Body worship and angst! (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the intersection of smut and angst, comes this fic. It's actually nearly 2,000 words. There's lots of body worship. Enjoy!

John’s lips vibrated against Nick’s lightly as he hummed into the kiss. He was always so damn expressive and from what the mall cop had gathered, this was sort of like his purr. It wasn’t needy so much as happy and damn if that didn’t make him feel like the luckiest guy ever. He whispered as much against his boyfriend’s skin which in turn brought forth a laugh.

“You’re such a sap, Valentine,”John replied. “Such an adorable, kind, brave, romantic, sexy, smart, wonderful, sap.” Each word was punctuated by a kiss pressed to his jaw, cheeks, lips, neck. “Oh, and you’re mine,” he added.

Nick laughed and allowed himself to be led to the bed, putting his left arm around his John as he straddled his lap. “Oh yeah?” 

His arms clasped behind Nick’s neck, keeping his wonderfully close. “Yeah that’s right. We’ll have to get tattoos or something. You know like those ‘if found return to whoever’ shirts. But it’ll be a tattoo cause you’re always going to be mine, right?” He didn’t expect that to be the case. These sorta things were too good for him and they always came to an end. He expected Nick to say as much but instead found himself pulled into a kiss. 

It wasn’t like their normal kisses. This was more. John had fallen way deeper in love than he’d planned to a long time ago but if he hadn’t, maybe this would be swaying that. It was soft and slow, like they had nowhere to be, like they could spend the rest of their lives in his moment. He wasn’t sure he would mind that, honestly. 

It ended too quickly and John found his lips following lamely behind as they separated. “That answer your question?” Nick asked, chuckling when his boyfriend shook his head, blush covering his cheeks and parted lips saying otherwise. “Then I guess I’ll have to do a better job convincing you this time, huh?”

John would’ve been happy sitting here for years, feeling Nick’s teeth tugging at his lip or leaving hickies along his neck - commenting that it might not be a tattoo but it’d have to do. The purr-like hum made itself known in his throat once again. Yeah, he’d be perfectly content to die right now if it meant nothing ever had to change. 

It seemed his boyfriend didn’t agree, he learned, as he felt as a hand slowly traced down his chest to curl around the waist of his jeans, sending chills up his back. “Let me make you mine,” Nick practically growled in his ear. Despite sounding like an order, a command, the hand stayed exactly where it was, waiting for a response.

John’s breath caught as it always did when he used that voice, jeans getting just a little tighter. He wanted to say yes so bad, but… “Take off your arm.” It didn’t have nearly the confidence Nick had but the determination in his eyes more than made up for it. 

The prosthetic fingers released their grip on John’s shirt and instead came between them as Nick considered it, fingers curling and uncurling. They sometimes didn’t listen in situations like this, gripping to hard. He’d left bruises that lasted a week last time. But… When his boyfriend’s fingers found their way to his cheek, thumb rubbing the skin gently he finally nodded. “Alright.”

Practiced fingers immediately got to work, unhooking the various electrodes and hookups. Nick looked away, never enjoying to watch as his arm come off. It wasn’t long before John was standing to walk the arm to the top of the dresser where the charging cable was. 

When he returned he found Nick staring at the wall still, remaining hand furling and unfurling while his teeth kneaded at his lip. “What’s wrong, Nicky?” he asked, crouching in front of him and putting a hand on his knee so he had no choice but to meet his gaze. 

Even then, it was several seconds until he got an answer. “It feels wrong. I can’t hold you. I can’t be what you deserve,” Nick replied, voice barely more than a whisper. When he had his arm on, they could pretend he was normal at least. The laugh that came bubbling out John’s lips without his approval took him aback. “What’s so funny?”

“The fact that- that you could think you’re less than I deserve.” He said between laughs. “Nicky, you’re so much more than I deserve. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Lack of arm and all.” Nick let out a laugh of his own - as if that was all some kind of joke - and Hancock stood, pulling off his shirt as he did so. “Lay down and let me prove it.”

Valentine looked pretty skeptical but did as he was asked. John climbed onto the bed after him, putting one knee on each side of his waist and leaning forward to catch his boyfriend’s lips with his own. 

The difference from earlier was obvious. Aside from the fact that John was now sat in his lap shirtless while he lay on a bed, the kiss was also more passionate. It was almost no time until their mouths were open, tongues moving together with an ease that came with time and lots of glorious practice. Their breaths were hot, heavy, and it was becoming harder to not focus on John’s current position. 

And then it was gone. 

“John, what-” Their eyes caught and Nick became acutely aware of how his boyfriend’s eyes travelled over his eyes, lips, hair, neck, drinking in every little detail and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so small. 

Had it not been for the whispered, “You’re so beautiful,” he might have thought that John had seen something he didn’t like. Instead his breath caught in his throat, unprepared for the compliment. 

Hancock’s eyes remained locked on his jaw and he leaned in and began pressing kisses along it, switching to the other side and to his cheeks when he’d run the length. This continued down to his throat and they both hummed in unison at the feeling. “How are you so perfect?” he mumbled into Nick’s skin as he undid the buttons of his shirt.

His fingers and lips lingered on a scar across his chest. It was obvious from the sudden tension that Nick was afraid he would say something bad about it. From what John had gathered it was one of the ones from the crash. To imagine what could leave this… “I can’t believe you had to go through that. Karma’s bullshit. Something like this should never have happened to someone like you.”

Nick’s fingers wound into his hair and the stump raised off the bed only to fall against the bed again. “John,” Nick pleaded in a voice that was a mix of a whine and a moan. Neither of them knew what exactly he was pleading for so John carried on doing just what he had been. 

He wanted to know every inch of the man’s body. Every scar and roll and hair. Idle fingers brushed across his nipples, occasionally lingering to tease them, before moving to get lost in the hair on his chest or above his belt or to return to his chin for a caress. 

His mouth did much the same though it lingered longer. He would suck at and bit the man’s nipples for minutes, appreciating the growing bulge beneath his own and rolling his hips to help the process along every so often. The kisses eventually trailed lower, following his happy trail to the edge of his pants and kissing across the entire length of the line. Oh, the desperate, shallow, wanting moans were wonderful. John was pretty sure he’d never be able to live without them again. 

And when he pushed the edge of the pants just a little lower Nick bucked up his hips. “All in due time, darling,” John commented with a chuckle. “I wanna remember every single, perfect detail. Can’t do that if I rush can I?”

“God damnit, if you don’t stop with that crap and fuck me soon, I’m gonna be pissed,” Nick growled in reply. Perhaps growl wasn’t the right word. That’s certainly what he intended it to be but it fell short. When the skin of Nick’s stump brushed against his own, John thought he had it put together. 

Gently he moved back up away from the straining jeans - resulting in a groan from his partner - and moved his attention to what was left of his right arm. Once again he felt his lover tense but didn’t let that stop him. 

The skin was heavily scarred and John wondered iddly if he could feel much there. Regardless he ghosted his lips over each scar. “You’re so strong,” John breathed, too focused to notice the whimper that came in reply. “So brave,” he continued. “I’m so proud of you. I don’t think I could do it. I know how hard it is. You’re so amazing for doing it every day. You’re so inspiring.”

Nick’s choked sob caught him off guard and instantly backed off. “Please, just fuck me,” Nick pleaded, voice cracking and tears leaving from his eyes. “John, please.”

Instead, he leaned forward, wiping away the tears. “Nick, what happened? Do you need to stop?” A million and one more questions ran through his head but he held them in. The last thing a crying man needed was to be overwhelmed like that. 

He immediately responded with a shake of his head but the shaking hand that came with it gave John pause. At least until he could answer the other question. “I can’t- You’re the first-” None of his words were working. His mind was too many places at once. His boyfriend’s fingers in his hair, stroking softly, helped him focus at least a bit. “No one’s ever talked to me like that.”

It was at that exact moment that John’s heart broke. He deserved to be told every day - hell every minute! - just how perfect he was! “Sorry I overwhelmed you.” He was quiet for several moments while his boyfriend attempted to slow the tears. “Let’s stop for the night, okay? I don’t want to push you anymore than I already have. Promise you’ll say something sooner next time?”

Nick nodded, suddenly looking very tired. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I’ll be right back.” John returned moments later with a fresh glass of water, several cookies, and the fluffiest, warmest blanket they had in the house reserved exclusively for aftercare.


	10. Depression and Nick Valentine *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after John's already gone off to college. Nick and John don't see too much of each other those days despite still living in the same house and sleeping in the same bed.

There was no reason Nick should be depressed. Not that he could think of anyways. He’d found an amazing boyfriend who’d just started attending college, prosthetic technologies were improving all the time, hell he even had a dog! So why did he feel so damn tired. Why was raising the spoon from the bowl to his mouth one of the most difficult things he’d done in the past year?

Maybe if he’d seen it coming it would be fine. His depression had always come and gone in cycles anyways. He knew how to handle that. But this… This was sudden. He’d woken up today realizing that he just couldn’t do it. 

John was already gone to school by the time he finally woke up. It had taken him 30 minutes to get out of bed, then 30 more to get dressed and now he was wrestling with his breakfast. He wanted nothing more than to skip work. Sometimes you just needed a mental health day, right? But no, they couldn’t afford it.

The cereal was abandoned and instead he sent a text to Glory. No way was he driving today and they were working the same shift. She was more than happy to pick him up. The looming pressure of talking weighed him down though. The mall wasn’t far but the short drive would no doubt bring the obligations of conversation.

“Morning, Nick! Or… Afternoon I guess.” She turned to face him for a moment and his heart raced, desperate to scream to look at the road. “Should be an easy shift right? Deacon’s staying home so RJ shouldn’t be too much trouble. And with John gone-” She stopped when she saw the strained expression on his face. “You alright? Is it the John thing? He’s not that far you know!”

He nodded tersely, “Yeah I’m fine. Had a rough night, that’s all. Kept waking up, you know?” It was a lie. He’d slept just fine but he wasn’t about to admit it was the morning that had him like this. He couldn’t show that kind of weakness. Even to Glory. 

The work day moved slowly. Too slowly. And he’d be working late tonight. If the past few weeks were anything to go by there was a 50 percent chance John would be home and asleep before he got off.

He didn’t even realize he was texting John until he’d pressed the send button on the short and sweet message: “I miss you.” Almost instantly the three dots in the corner appeared, bouncing in place as they waited. The reply was just as short. “Miss you too <3” Nick didn’t know what he’d expected but it still hurt. At least, until it was followed up by “Working late at school today. I think I’ll get home at the same time as you!” 

He nearly started crying right there. He couldn’t even tell you why. Hell, he couldn’t even tell you if they were happy or sad tears. He was at his breaking point here and he hadn’t even seen it coming. Would it be like this for days, weeks, months? Would spending a night with John again solve anything? He didn’t know. And that was probably the scariest part.


	11. Nick has daddy af stubble *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based mostly on two things Valencock/AJ drew. Not sure if he ever posted them

Nick knew as soon as he ran his real hand over his chin that he needed to shave. Normally, he was pretty good at staying on top of keeping a clean face. Apparently a couple sick days was all he needed to really let himself go again. 

He really, really didn’t want to leave bed. Least of all while John was laying next to him, still wearing the crop top and tight leather pants from the day before. Yet, with a groan he sat up, giving his boyfriend a pat on the ass as he stood. This earned a still-asleep mumble and the much smaller man rolled over, digging the heels of his palm into his eyes. 

“Where are you going? Come back,” Hancock mumbled, watching him walk away through half-lidded eyes. 

Nick turned back only for a second, to drink in the scene. John looked pretty damn cute all stretched out, blanket covering about half his body below the waist. Cute, orange curls bridged the gap from the top edge of his pants across his flat stomach to his belly button. This was perhaps one of the rare times that Valentine didn’t mind a shirt blocking his view of his boyfriend’s chest because he looked downright adorable in that tie-dyed grateful crop top. Hell, there were even some flowers left in his beard. 

He chuckled and shook his head, committing the moment to memory. “Calm down. I’m just going to shave. I’ll be right back.” A gasp stopped him in his tracks and he turned to face the bed again. “Is everything okay?”

John was staring at him in horror, like something was seriously wrong. “You can’t shave it! You’re daddy af right now! If you shave you won’t be Daddy Bear anymore!”

“Call me daddy bear again and I’ll set you on fire, Johnny,” Nick retorted, point a finger in his direction. But those god. Damn. Puppy dog eyes. “Hey stop that. That’s cheating.”

The cheeky grin gave away that he knew exactly what he was doing and yet he blinked innocently anyways. “I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about, Nicky.” After a second, he flipped on his stomach and kicked his feet up. “Now pleeeeease come back to bed. I’ll make it worth your while,” he added, wiggling his little butt and winking. 

Nick let out a long, disappointed sigh but there was no mistaking the smile on his lips. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He muttered before kissing him. 

John nodded with a proud smile, before rubbing his own cheek against Nick’s stubble like a damn cat or something. “Uh huh. But that’s why you love me, right?”


	12. Breakfast in Bed (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up, is bored, and decides to wake Nick up too in the best way possible.

John really didn’t want to wake up. It’d been a long day yesterday and he and Nick had gone out for a dinner date after work. The plan had been to come home and fuck around but, well, it had been late and they were tired. Oh god, they really were getting old. Sure, he teased Nick about it all the time but he didn’t mean it. And yet…

It was a Monday. One of those bullshit holidays that meant no one had to work. Which thankfully meant no one had to get out of bed either. Of course, it was 8 am and John was awake. Why couldn’t the world just let him have this. One morning of sleep. 

When it became painfully clear that he wasn’t going back to sleep and Nick had no plans to join him in the world of the living any time soon, he put on some music - something sorta slow for once so as not to wake his partner. Of course, as he was sitting there bored as fuck, with nothing but his thoughts to distract him - never a good thing - he remembered a conversation he and Nick had once had. It was a conversation about something John had wanted to try for a long time now. And back then, Nick had said it was okay. No time like the present right? 

John slipped his hand under the blanket slowly and moved it around until he found Nick’s leg. He usually slept in nothing but his boxers so he took his time, playing with the hair covering his legs before finding his hand at the other man’s crotch. He didn’t realize at first just how slow of a process it would be. Any time he went too fast, Nick would seem to stir and John would stop. He wasn’t supposed to wake up… Not yet anyways. 

After several minutes John took a chance and slipped his hand into the boxers, running his hand up and down the semi for a moment before pausing at the head and running his finger along the slit. Nick let out a low moan, hips rolling lazily, and that was it. Hancock pulled the blanket back slowly and pulled down his boxers enough to let out his dick.

He wasted no time, running his tongue up the length, enjoying each uninhibited rugged breath Nick let out. Usually he was so eager to hold them in but not, it seemed, while asleep. For every time he took it into his mouth or pressed a sloppy kiss to the shaft, Nick let out a low moan. It was driving him crazy enough that he forgot to actually try to keep him asleep. 

Nick woke with a gasp, head rocking down into his pillow while his chest lifted off the bed. “Mm- Wha-” His glassy eyes seemed to focus just enough to notice John’s mouth wrapped around his cock. Instantly he reached to tangle his hand in his curls but instead Hancock’s own hand intercepted his and intertwined their fingers, stopping either from moving from the mattress.

John pulled back with a wet pop and smiled up at his boyfriend affectionately, saliva and precum shining on his lips and chin. “Good morning!” He offered no other words and instead held his gaze.

Nick was already a mess, breathing heavily and thrusting his hips up, desperate for that warm, wet mouth to return. “What’re you doing? Don’t stop.” The last part sounded more like a plea than a demand as it usually did. 

As such, John was in no rush to obey. “Breakfast in bed.” As if to prove the statement he drug his tongue up the length of Nick’s dick which had him whimpering. “You sound so sexy,” he added as he swirled his tongue around the head. “I wonder what you’ll sound like when you cum.”

“Hurry up and find out,” Nick managed, bucking up as John went as far down on him as he could. It didn’t take long and as expected, Nick was a mix of moans and groans and heavy breathing, creating a sound so beautiful John was pretty sure that no song would ever measure up. After taking about a minute to recover Nick finally chuckled and pulled John to his chest. “Well that sure was a way to wake up.”

John snuggled into his side, playing with his chest hair. “A good way?” A nod confirmed it. “So… hypothetically you’d be okay with it happening again?”

The rumble of laughter in his chest had John practically purring. “I would love if it did.”


	13. How Deacon Met John (NSFW) *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, John did some sex work and Deacon was curious what all the fuss was about

Generally, Deacon didn’t fuck around with the harder drugs. Dealing pot was relatively safe. The customers were chill and the punishments weren’t too harsh. That wasn’t to say he was totally ignorant of that darker world. Meaning he knew enough that if one of his clients wanted something he could usually get a hold of it. 

It also meant that he usually picked up on chatter. Usually it was nonsense, just a bunch of names like Finn or slang that mostly meant nothing to Deacon. But something in particular caught his attention. Word was that there was this cute boy going by the name Hancock who’d just started working the corner. Best part? He’d do it for drugs, not just money, and Deacon had plenty of drugs to spare. 

The next weekend that Deacon had time, he found himself rolling slowly down one of the streets popular for working girls in his car, keeping his eyes peeled. A friend had told him that he’d know it when he saw Hancock and after about 15 minutes of searching, he was starting to believe that was bullshit. 

It wasn’t.

Hancock, as it turned out, was a kid who must’ve been roughly the same age as Deacon with heeled boots that made his ripped up, skinny jean clad ass looking fucking fantastic. Around his waist was wrapped an american flag sash and covering his chest was what must have been some kind of women’s blouse, dipping quite low with ruffles around the edges. To top it all off, he was wearing a goddamn tricorne utop ginger curls. It shouldn’t work. How the fuck was it working? 

The window of Deacon’s car rolled down as he pulled up to the curb near Hancock and he leaned over. “Hancock right?” When he nodded and leaned in, the lights in the car caught the bruises and silhouettes of bones. Yeah this was definitely him. “Then get on in.”

Hancock chuckled a bit and nodded in an obvious ‘yeah right’ sorta way. “I don’t work for free, buddy.” The other man tipped his head and produced the small baggy of white powder from his pocket without a word. Interest successfully piqued. “Well that works. What you want for it?”

“Whatever you’re willing to give me.” Hancock nearly walked away right there but Deacon enticed him back. “All you gotta do it blow me and let me buy you dinner! Maybe not in that order.” It definitely didn’t look like Hancock liked the offer but the boy was way too skinny. Someone was gonna lose an eye on those ribs the way they were sticking out for christ sake!

As soon as he was in the car Deacon handed over the coke. “What do you want to eat?”

He took the small bag with a nod and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. “You know you don't have to buy me dinner first right? I mean, we call these little rendezvous dates but they aren't actually. That's kinda the point right?” The smile he put on was practiced and Deacon could tell. It wasn’t hard to read people anymore and it was at times like this he wished he couldn’t. 

It would be easier to pretend that this was something Hancock actually honestly enjoyed and wanted to be doing but that damn smile. That’s why Deacon had to make him want to do it. “Coke kills appetite and doesn't buy you food like money so it only seems like the right thing to do. Now, what do you want to eat?” Food wasn’t much but it was something. 

There was a long pause while Hancock considered his options. “Anything?” A sparkle in his eyes almost made Deacon smile. How long had it been since someone had bought him dinner? Too long probably.

“Anything.”

Hancock responded almost instantly, as if he were afraid the offer would be retracted. “Pizza. With extra cheese! And pepperoni. And sausage.”

“You don't mess around do you, Hancock?” Deacon responded with a soft laugh, driving them to the closest pizza place. It was pretty decent if memory served and they didn’t really need anything fancy. As Hancock had pointed out, this was hardly a real date. 

After placing their order, the car was largely silent. It had been a while since Deacon had done something like this and small talk had never been a strong suit of his. His companion for the night was already shifting around in his seat, hand running up and down his thigh. Trying his best to ignore it and stay composed himself, Deacon pulled out and lit a joint, taking a nice long drag before passing it over. 

“Why are you really doing this?” Hancock asked as he took it. Hopefully it would help him relax. The coke sure as hell wouldn’t but hey, who knows? Maybe they’d do that together too. Coke wasn’t Deacon’s usually cup of tea but he sure as hell wouldn’t mind. 

“Like I said, it's the right thing to do.” It was a half-truth. In part, he just wanted to do the right thing and feed the kid. In part, the idea of just paying for sex then kicking him out seemed wrong. This was his compromise. 

Hancock laughed a bit, enjoying watching the smoke drift up and into the windshield before passing back the joint. “The people who usually say that kinda stuff don't also offer me coke and ask for a blowie though. So what's your game? Gonna ask me why I do this or try to convince me to stop?” Whatever bitterness had once been lurking under his voice seemed to be subsiding. It was still there but something else was taking over; curiosity, interest. 

There was no way Deacon was getting out of this without a real answer. Not if he kept talking anyways. The time on his watch informed him the pizza should be done any minute though. Thank god. “Nah, I get it. Ain't no rest for the wicked right? Plus, depending how well this goes I might want to hire you again. Can't do that if you're not working right?”

Without another word, Deacon stepped out of the car, returning inside the pizza place and leaving Hancock to think about it. Normally a comment like that would make him uncomfortable. And it still did. But not as much. So far, he’d been nothing but cordial and the offer of food was always nice. Maybe, just maybe, Hancock wouldn’t mind this becoming a longer thing. 

When Deacon came back, the pizza now in hand, Hancock wasted no time before digging in. Six of the eight pieces were gone before he finally stopped and looked up. “Oh right, shit. You probably want some of this. I mean you paid for it and everything, sorry.”

The other man shook his head and laughed. “Dude, don’t worry about it. You’re paying me back anyways.” Hancock nodded stiffly and tried to imitate the smile. Obviously a wrong move then. 

With hands shaking just enough to notice, Hancock pulled the coke out of his pocket again. “Mind if I do a line first?” 

“Whatever makes you most comfortable,” Deacon responded with the sweep of his hand. The air seemed more tense now, or maybe that was just him. He wasn’t really used to doing this thing and it hit him then that the man now snorting up a line of coke was about to suck his dick. He didn’t even know this guy’s name. Not that it really mattered. “So how do we do this?” he finally asked, chuckle accompanying the question obviously uncomfortable. 

It would take a couple minutes for the coke to kick in and Hancock was in no rush to start before that so he got about cleaning up and tucking the rest of the bag in his pocket again. “Take us somewhere we probably won’t get spotted then climb in the back.” 

It was a short drive but long enough that when Deacon finally cut the engine, parked in some shitty, dark parking lot the drug was starting to kick in. Hancock could hardly keep his eyes off the man as he crawled into the back, sitting on the seat as one normally would. “You know, you don’t have to blow me. We can do something else if you’d prefer-” Deacon started to say as Hancock crawled after him, cut off as a quick kiss was pressed to his lips. It was an obvious ‘shut up’ and he was more than happy to comply.

Hancock guided him until his back was to the door and his legs were on the seat, crawling over him and reaching down to palm Deacon’s dick through his jeans. “Just let me take care of you. Relax.” It wasn’t hard to do just that as Hancock freed his dick and worked it up before taking it in his mouth. 

Some of his friends had told Deacon that Hancock was a total junkie who was too drunk or drugged up to be much good, but that was quickly disproved as he got to work. Now, Deacon didn’t get blown too much, at the very least not by more than a few people, so he was reacting perfectly to every trick Hancock was dishing out.

You see, Hancock normally didn’t go all out like this but clients didn’t usually offer him pizza and coke. He was going to pay Deacon back for every single kindness he’d been paid that night with his tongue. It was a welcome break from the usual guys that picked him up so he was more than happy to pull out his full range of skills. Every so often Hancock’s eyes would flicker up to find those damn sunglasses staring back at him before quickly looking away. When he noticed that Deacon’s hand was moving around, seemingly unsure what to do, he took it and guided it to his hair. John let out a groan as his fingers wrapped into ginger curls. Yeah Hancock was definitely having a great time right now. 

It wasn’t long before Deacon was having a hard time controlling himself, hips bucking up every so often and breath growing ragged. “Hancock, I’m gonna- you should stop before I-” Hancock looked up, acknowledging that he had, in fact, heard before going all the way down. No way was he stopping before this guy came. And never one to disappoint it seemed, Deacon was cumming in seconds while Hancock swallowed it down with practiced ease. “Yeah we’re definitely gonna do this again.”

Hancock sat up, wiping up a bit of spunk on his lip with a finger then licking it off. “I’m looking forward to it.”


	14. History Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is a bad influence and John tries to have a good time at a museum

John was like a kid in a candy store, bouncing and squirming in his seat on the bus the whole ride over. Had it not been for the fact that they had been traveling for about a hour now and it was getting real old real fast Nick might have found it cute. But that was the case and he kept find his reading of the news interrupted by John’s fun facts. 

“Nick I just remembered! They have a whole exhibit about Hancock! We have to see it!” He rambled on for several minutes then, listing everything he wanted see. Pretty much everything as it turned out. Several of them he'd enthused about already this trip.

When they finally made it to the museum Nick allowed himself to be dragged around for nearly an hour without protest. He'd never been a big fan of history but he had to admit some of this stuff was pretty cool, especially the recreation rooms where a whole scene would be on display. 

When they finally made it to the Hancock exhibit John lost his shit. He went to pose by a recreation of the founding father’s coat and everything. “What do you think,  
Nicky? I bet I'd look pretty sexy in it. Especially if we got one of those sweet hats! Do you think they sell them in the gift shop? If they do we are so getting one!”

“You would look very sexy,” Nick said, seeing his opportunity and taking it, snaking his arms around John’s waist and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Then again you look sexy in anything. Or nothing.”

John placed both hands on his boyfriend’s chest and pushed lightly. “Are you implying something naughty, Nicky?” 

“Mhmm,” Nick murmured, nuzzling closer again and tugging lightly on John’s ear with his teeth. “I bet we could find someplace quiet and make some history of our own.” His eyes were downright wicked and John thought it just wasn't fair.

He kneaded his lip between his teeth for a second. “No! We can't! This is a museum!” He finally managed, voice not sounding altogether too convincing. “And I was still looking,” he finished more quietly. 

Nick didn't give in just yet. “You sure?” he asked, kissing along his jaw. “We can do anything you want, Mister Hancock.”

“You're such a bad influence,” John whined. “Fine but we better keep looking after.”

“As I said, anything you want.”


	15. Hancock angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has daddy issues and a bad cutting habit. So triggers for those!

It was one of those nights. Nothing particularly wrong had happened. A short conversation was the most of John’s problems and he'd learned to ignore him long ago. Tonight had been another dismissal of his problems. The old man had called because a failed appearance on John’s part at the funeral for some family member he'd never really liked anyways. Somehow it had turned to how his gay “habits” -- as his father put it -- were a mental illness and “it's okay, you can get treated for that” while the drugs were his own damn fault and his depression wasn't real.

John knew all that was bullshit. His father didn't know or care about any of that stuff and lost all right to ask for or have input on anything the moment he kicked him out. Yes still he was left feeling like crap. He hated that this man still had that much control over him, that John still allowed this to get to him, but that line of thinking hardly helped.

It wasn't the gay comment that bugged him. His boyfriend, Nick, was perhaps the single good thing in his life. Instead, it was his addictions: the weed in the bedside table, his preferred brand of cigarettes that Nick carried for him in his jacket, the emergency bag of coke in his to-go bag in the closet (Nick would kill him for that one) the exacto knife he kept mixed in with the pens. He would stop it all if he could. Hell, h prayed for it sometimes and John was far from a God fearing man. But that wasn't going to happen. Years of addiction to drugs and thighs covered in scars proved that. These problems were real and they were here to stay. 

Too quickly John found his mind racing, going nowhere fast. Like a chant his mind said “do it. You deserve it. It's all you're good for. Get the knife. Cut. Cut. Cut.”

It was no use staving it off. He tried. He really did, muttering to himself as he trudged across the house to retrieve his prize. “2 months now. I got 2 damn months without needing this thing and now we're going back over this?” He sat on the edge of the bed, pants pulled off and thrown aside. Scars crisscrosses his thighs, in places resembling patterns and others pure chaos.

The cap on the knife came off with a quiet pop. “I don't even know why I want this. I sure as hell don't need it. I don't deserve pain. I was doing so well so why the hell am I doing to do-” John cut himself off with a soft gasp as the tip of the knife skated across his skin. “Oh yeah. That's why.”

It felt good: the cool metal, the tiniest bit of pressure, the memory of what came next -- the high. God he missed it. And no one was here to stop him tonight. He was alone. Normally Nick would talk him out of it but he wouldn't be mad about this. John knew he was fucking up and he forgave himself to that, fully acknowledging how weird it is to forgive yourself for what you're about to do. 

But then his thoughts went back to Nick fucking Valentine. John honestly didn't know how he'd ended up with someone like that in his life let alone loving him! But what baffled him most was Nick looked up to him -- was proud of him. Somehow Nick saw something of value in John.

“Fuck,” he muttered, replacing the cap on the knife. “Fucking Valentine.” No, he couldn't do it. He couldn't cut with Nick on his mind. It was even harder because he knew Nick would love him even if he did it. He wouldn't be sad or mad or disappointed. He'd just accept it and love John same as always and that's how John knew he couldn't do it. “I hope you know that this is your fault,” he mumbled to the empty room as he returned the knife to its home.


	16. Nick Valentine, meet Dima Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Valentine, meet Dima Valentine

Saturday mornings were the absolute worst at the mall. There were always a billion things going on and Nick found himself rushing from one problem to another. Due to his somewhat limited capabilities he often wasn’t scheduled to work but today was all hands on deck. A call from Glory had just come in asking him to check in with Travis. There’d been a report that a customer was complaining and he was getting all flustered. Again. 

The security guard weaved between people moving frustratingly slow as they peered through windows. It wasn’t until he had nearly tripped that he noticed the wheelchair making a beeline for him. “Shit, sorry didn’t see you there,” he muttered as he moved past, barely sparing a glance. 

“Nick Valentine?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, causing a customer to run into him. Slowly he turned to meet the eyes of the man in the chair. “Yes?” As far as Nick could remember, this wasn’t someone he knew. The tousled brown hair, big ears, and glasses perched on a rather prominent nose looked familiar but he couldn’t for the life of him place it. “Do I know you?” He was met with only a blank, slack jawed face in response. “Did you need something? If not, I’ve got work to do.”

That got him talking, those his response came rather stuttered. “It’s really you…” He paused another moment before bumbling on again, thoughts and words stumbling together. “I’m so sorry about your arm. It seems your new one is working quite well though. The stickers are a nice touch. I always like to see people personalize their prosthetics. Reclaim it. Some people worry about ruining it and I suppose that’s a legitimate worry but-” he broke himself off as he saw Nick quickly losing patience. After taking a moment to cough awkwardly he spoke again. “Sorry, where are my manners. My name’s Dima. I’m your brother.” He offered his hand, eyes baring into Nick’s expectantly. 

He didn’t get what he was looking for. “Look, I don’t know who you are or what your game is but I don’t have a brother. Now, like I said, I have work to do,” he replied stiffly, turning on his heel and walking away.

As he helped Travis, though, he couldn’t get Dima out of his mind. It hadn’t taken him long after the big reveal for Nick to realize what he recognized in Dima was his own face. That seemed to lead to more questions than answers: why had no one told him he had a brother, why didn’t he live with them, where had he been all this time, how had he found Nick, why was he in a wheelchair. 

The thoughts seemed to suffocate him until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. His fingers shook as he headed to the roof, taking his break early. In his pocket, his phone vibrated without answer. Instead, he fumbled with his lighter until finally it sparked to life and lit the cigarette between his lips. The familiar burn in his throat helped to slow his racing thoughts but still he found himself pacing. To say this changed everything might be an exaggeration but…

The door clicked open then closed and electronic wheels hummed. “Smoking’s bad for you,” Dima said, coming to a stop beside a bench. His eyes stayed steady on Nick, tracking his movements.

“And?” Nick retorted, growl keeping into his voice. His “cop voice” as John liked to call it. “I could die driving home from work tonight. Or lose my other arm. I don’t think a few cigarettes really matter in the long run.” Despite his best attempts not to, he found himself returning Dima’s gaze. 

His tone of voice and expression remained rather casual. “That’s not a very healthy way to view driving. Most people never find themselves injured in a car accident. Not to mention that if you drive cautiously there is very little to fear. Cigarettes, on the other hand, will kill you some day.”

Nick nodded and sat across from Dima, leaning forward to lean on his thighs. “Everyone has to die someday. I may have gotten lucky once but no reason to avoid things to try to live longer so I can avoid things longer. Even the most careful drivers can die in car accidents. And smokers don’t always die because of cigarettes. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” The answer seemed to satisfy Dima and he fell silent. 

Nick leaned back against the wood of the bench, taking a long drag on his cigarette and then blowing the smoke up towards the sky, watching it disappear. Two conversations in and his so-called brother was already trying to criticize his life choices and he honestly wasn’t in the mood right now. John nagging about his anxiety and “drinking problem” was more than enough. A buzz in his pocket reminded him of just that. No reason for some other asshole to come in and pile on. 

To both of their surprise, Nick found himself talking first. “So what do you want? Why reach out to me after all these years? If you need money or something, I can’t help you. Mall cops make shit pay and college is expensive so you’re gonna have to find someone else.” His gaze remained focused on the clouds and smoke above him.

“No, I’ve got more than enough money. It just felt like it was time. I’ve known about you since our father left my mother for yours. Never had the courage to actually talk to you. I sent flowers when I heard about the accident but it hardly seemed the time to meet. I work with people like us, you see -- disabled people. I should’ve come to you earlier but I couldn’t until I had something to offer.” He swept his hand towards the prosthetic with a knowing smile. It didn’t take more than a second for Nick to put it together.

He remained silent, real fingers rubbing together as he mulled through the new information. “I know how insurance companies can be -- not willing to be the first to pay. It seemed like the right thing to do. Myself, I’ve never had control of my legs. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose what you used to have though.”

“None of that explains why you’re here,” Nick said, voice barely more than a whisper this time.

The silence that came in response was telling. He didn’t know. “I just needed to know who you were. Whether you choose to accept it or not we’re brothers and I would like you to be a part of my life.”

John’s voice arrived before he did. “Nick, what the actual fuck! You think maybe you could answer your phone instead of giving me a damn panic attack? I looked everywhere for you! Who’s this?”

Nick let out a long stream of smoke then covered his face with his hand and dragging it down slowly. His brother introduced himself. “I should be going,” he said, quickly realizing he may be out of place. 

“Why don’t you come over for dinner. Nick’s a great cook,” John interjected before he could leave. The look Nick shot John let him know in exactly how much trouble he was in later. 

Dima considered it for a moment before nodding. “That sounds great. I’ll see you guys then.”

As soon as he was gone Nick dropped his cigarette to the ground, snubbing it out. This was certainly the start of something interesting.


	17. That time John was in charge (NSFW) *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: typed this on my phone while sitting next to my mom on a plane. Also Nick likes praise and John likes praising him.

The moment they got alone, John found his back shoved against the closed door, lips locked on Nick’s. Neither of them had the patience left for building up to this. The subtle teasing and touches over the past couple hours had been enough. Each was addicted to the taste of the other; the hint of tobacco and pot, the mint toothpaste they both used, the smell of shampoo.

Nick had said tonight they could do anything John wanted, though. Of course, he loved this. But he had bigger plans. “Wait, stop,” he said, voice breathy and face flushed. Nick’s whine at the loss was enough to convince him he was certainly making the right choice. “I want that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.” The sight of Nick sinking to the floor, helped by John’s hand on his shoulder, pushing him down, was enough to get him going. 

While Nick got fumbling fingers to undo his boyfriend’s fly, John pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor beside them. Nick’s fingers paused their work, instead curling into the loops on John’s jeans to help him pull himself up, lips pressing against his bare chest. Lips traced his ribs and worked their way up. Upon reaching the man’s nipples his tongue darted out to swirl around the ball at the end of the piercing before doing the same to his sensitive skin. 

It felt so damn good that John let it continue for nearly a minute before rasping out a gruff, “what did I say?” pushing down against Nick’s shoulder once again. There was little resistance and Nick was quickly mumbling an apology as he undid John’s pants. 

As he came free, Nick ducked so his boyfriend’s dick fell on his face, mouth just slightly parted. His tongue rested just outside his lip, face turning to try to get a better angle on it. God damn it was a beautiful scene and John couldn't wait to get that tongue on him but he had other plans first.

He moved his dick just out of reach on Nick’s face, fingers curling into his hair. “You want it so bad don't you? You want to show me just how much you've learned, huh? How good you can be.” The smell was intoxicating for Nick, his goal so close but not close enough. Not nearly. 

“John, please,” he whined, catching his boyfriend’s eyes, not much needing to exaggerate the desperation in his eyes. 

The man in question, in the mean time, was having no such problem. The stiff dick on his boyfriend's face the only clue he wasn't completely calm. “Please what?” It was cruel. He knew exactly what Nick wanted but he wanted to hear it. 

And Nick responded without hesitation. “Let me suck your cock and make you lose your damn mind.” John considered saying no, stringing this out longer but there was no way. He wanted this too bad.

“We’ll see about that.” The hand in Nick’s hair pulled him back until his mouth found itself wrapped around this tip of John’s dick. It was hot and so damn wet. It was pretty obvious his mouth had been watering at the thought of this and Nick wasted no time swirling his tongue like this was the only thing in the world that mattered. 

He used every trick he had learned over his time with John. Every sensitive spot was hit relentlessly, delicate tongue flicking over the same spot countless times in a row. It would be total bullshit to say that John wasn't losing his damn mind over this. Each touch brought him closer to an edge he was in no way ready to cross yet.

The best way to cover? Talk. “I was right. You do look gorgeous like this.” His hand tightened in the man’s hair. “You're such a good slut for me. This is how you like it, isn't it?” John couldn't quite tell if Nick was buying the act or not but he did notice the slight shuffle and growing bulge in his pants. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

Nick hummed a moan of reply and sunk further. John almost broke and let out a moan of his own. While one hand came up to cup John’s balls, Nick began bobbing his head, going deeper with each try.

The look of concentration on his face was pretty endearing really. He was relatively new to this whole thing and each breath and inch further was slow and planned so he didn't gag. “You're doing so good,” John murmured, thumb brushing against his cheek. “You're almost there.” 

When he thought Nick could handle it, John started slowly thrusting forward. His hand was loose in his boyfriend’s hair now, letting him pull back whenever he needed to. 

It wasn't until Nick was bottoming out each time, tongue lapping at this balls that John noticed. The man’s prosthetic arm was cupped around his own jeans, thrusting into his palms at the same pace. The sight was enough to make John groan in appreciation.

“Have you been practicing?” John joked, the breathy laughter becoming an obvious moan as he felt Nick’s throat tighten around the tip of his dick as he gagged a bit and pulled back. 

Several strings of saliva draped between Nick’s lips and the object of his affections. In fact, his whole chin was slick with spit. And God it was so hot. “Maybe,” he said with a crooked smile, trying to whipe away the mess with the back of his hand and only making it worse. 

It was no secret now that John was close. His eyes were half lidded, own mouth hanging open as he tried to breathe. “Well don't stop now.” Nick continued his earlier practice, hitting each sensitive spot. John was openly moaning now, one hand gripping the wall and the other his hair. 

Nick was moaning along, though not as noticeably. His came in the form of hums, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his boyfriend, goosebumps left in their wake. 

He tried to hold out longer but found he couldn't. “Nicky, I'm gonna cum,” he moaned, hips thrusting erratically. 

“Good,” Nick responded with a sly smile, continuing to pump it and run his tongue along the slit. He could feel himself getting close too and was far too caught up in the moment to worry about getting a load to the face. That seemed to be the final tipping point. 

It was only seconds before thick ropes of cum were coating his face, mixing with the saliva in places. “That's right. You look so damn good with my cum all over you, babe. What a beautiful slut I got lucky enough to end up with.” That was what did it for Nick, sending him tumbling over the edge. 

For several seconds they were just quiet before John began kissing and licking the mess he'd left on his boyfriend's face. “God damn I love you, you know that? Now let's to get you cleaned up.”


	18. "You, my friend, are a filthy sinner and I approve wholeheartedly"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes snooping

John wasn’t really sure what to expect when he opened Nick’s laptop. Maybe his background would be something super noir detective. Or maybe something really business-y and official! What if it was just the default screen? It was none of these. Instead, it was a picture of Columbo the Corgi laying on his back, staring up at the camera with his tongue lolling out. It was both disappointing and super adorable and John would have to remember to give Nick shit for it later. 

He wasn’t here for background pictures or mysteriously titled folders that were just begging to be clicked on the desktop. No, he was here for browser history. It was the only way that he could get Nick the perfect present for his birthday. Maybe if he knew what his boyfriend’d been looking at buying he could get it! And then it would be perfect! There could be absolutely no flaw in this plan at all. No downsides. None. 

At first, that proved surprisingly true. He scrolled through the browser history and it was mostly really boring. Like, who actually googles cute dog videos? This man apparently. Also, how much time did he spend on facebook? This was just ridiculous. Farmville is, despite popular belief, not life, Nick. Not to mention he apparently did no online shopping. Someone really had to give him a lesson on how to use the internet without being a total old man. 

Then, he discovered the second browser. A second browser dedicated just to porn apparently because as soon as he opened it, the 6 recommended websites were 6 different sites. It didn’t take long, looking through the history for John to learn several very interesting tidbits of information he would definitely have to bring up later because let’s just face it. You could get up to a lot of fun with all this.

When the front door opened and Nick walked through, calling out his super cheesy, “Honey, I’m home,” John didn’t hesitate to blurt out, "You, my friend, are a filthy sinner, and I approve wholeheartedly,” totally forgetting that this was supposed to be a super secret recon job. 

Nick stared at him then the computer, then what was on the screen. “What are you doing?”

John put up his finger, turning in the chair to face his boyfriend. “If I say nothing will you not get mad at me?” It didn’t work. Nick put on his best grumpy face and crossed his arms over his chest. It did very well to make John feel disappointed in himself but also backfired by making him just a tad turned on. “I’ll take that as a no then.”


	19. What it's like watching movies with Nick

“Hm,” Valentine muttered, leaning back into the couch and running his fingers over his lips. His keen eyes continued to study the screen, obviously thinking. And let me tell you, John was fucking DONE with it!

He grabbed the remote and pause the movie, turning to his boyfriend with a bit of a scowl. “The fuck do you mean, hmm? We’re only 20 minutes in to the movie! We don’t even know what the plot is yet? How the fuck are you figuring something out right now?” When Nick only scrunched up his brow John sighed and explained. “Every time you figure something out in a movie you do that thing. Like, the hm thing. So what the hell did you figure out this time?”

“Oh.” Nick’s poker face was apparently not as good as he thought. “You’ll see.”

John picked up the controller again, switching the tv over to netflix. “No you know what? We’re testing you. There must be some genre you can’t predict.”

They spent most of the evening trying. By 30 minutes in Nick could almost always call the plot with scary accuracy. John was looking it up to confirm. It seemed like there was no hope until… Horror movies. 

Almost everyone who watched film could see a jump scare coming and it was obvious Nick had spent a lot of time doing just that and yet each time one approached he was taken totally by surprise. John being the vengeful, cheeky bastard he is, starting running a finger down his spine or grabbing his side just as they happened. 

Let’s just say, someone spent the night on the couch.


	20. When Nick and John fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non canon bfs fighting

“You never loved me, you loved what I could give you.” And of fucking course Valentine just had to get the last word in. John literally already had one foot out the door and he was still talking, trying to convince him to stay. He just had to ignore it. Just keep walking.

He turned around. “And what’s that? What exactly are you giving me? A home? A family? Love? I was fine before you and I’ll be fine without you.” He practically spit the words from his lips. 

And Nick was livid. It hurt him to see that handsome face twisted into rage but it was also oddly satisfying. “You’re just proving my point! After all we’ve gone through, you’re just going to walk out the door! Someone who loved me wouldn’t do that.”

“You keep trying to manipulate me, we’re gonna have a problem, Valentine.”

There was a moment of silence as both men stared each other down. Hancock was mentally preparing for a fist fight at this point to be honest but instead got, “Just prove to me that you really do love me and we can move past this.”

But that wasn’t good enough. “If my word isn’t enough then no we can’t. Because I do love you, Nick. But I can’t stay for this.” Hancock had never let himself get too attached because this day always came. Nothing lasted forever. But as he left, all his possessions in a bag over his shoulder, he never would have thought it would have hurt so much.


	21. More fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this time featuring cocaine!

“What, nothing?” Nick was pissed already but the fact that he wouldn’t just fucking answer him, god that was what really got him. “I’m cool with most of the crazy shit you do, John, but when you moved in we made rules. And you know what? I can deal with you leaving your shit all over my side of the room and never doing the dishes or walking the dog but this?”

Hancock kept his eyes firmly on the tv, pretending like he wasn’t even listening. The tight jaw, clenched hands, and narrowed eyes gave him away. “Would you fucking answer me,” Nick shouted, pushing the power button for the tv much harder than he needed to.

“I was watching that,” John muttered, still refusing to make eye contact.

“And I’m talking to you.”

“You got a problem with me, just kick me out. It’s what everyone else does.” 

After a long moment of silence and a heavy sigh he brought his eyes up to meet Nick’s. “Thank you. Now what do you have to say for yourself?”

“It’s not that bad, Nicky,” he said with a smile that was just a smidgen too shaky to be natural. “It’s just a bit of coke.”

Nick was torn for punching him in his smug fucking face for being such an idiot and the other part of him wanted to hold him and never let go. “You said you quit.” 

“You know, quitting is sorta a process you know? It’s not just, like, you stop one day and never do it again. Sometimes you screw up and you just need to get a little high, you know?” He said it so non-challantly, as if he actually believed it. They both knew that wasn’t true. He’d fucked up.

Nick crouched down, putting his real hand over John’s. “That shit’s dangerous, love.”

“I know.”

“I can help you if you’ll let me.” Tears welled in Hancock’s eyes and he pulled him close, vowing to never let go because a man like him shouldn’t cry. “Oh… Don’t cry…” John’s hands clung to his shirt and it was obvious he didn’t have plans to let go either.


	22. John doesn't want to do the dishes NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by valencock on tumblr, aka the loser who makes this dumb au with me. Not explicit but better safe than sorry I suppose. John doesn't like doing dishes.

“Come on Nick! Kisssss meeeeeeee,” John whined, bending backwards across the counter dramatically. Arms crossed over his chest and looking rather unimpressed, Nick stood across from him. When it became quite clear that his tactics weren’t gonna work John gave up with a pout. 

Nick smiled but shook his head. “Finish doing the dishes and I will. But not before that.” John gave off a loud groan and once again slid dramatically down the counter before righting himself. “You cook it, you clean it, John. That’s the rule.”

“Yeah but it’s always you doing the cooking! Not me!” Suddenly it looked like John got a brilliant idea and he walked up to Nick, laying his hands on his boyfriend’s chest. “What if… I suck your dick? Then can I not to the dishes?”

As John’s hands roamed, Nick remained unfazed. “That sounds more like a reward for you.” He took John’s hands in his own. “How about this? You do the dishes and I’ll do all sorts of nasty things to you.”

John pulled his hands away with a stunned gasp. “This is cruel, Valentine, even for you! You know what? I think this is cruel and unusual punishment. We should put you in handcuffs,” he said excitedly.

“Dishes. First.”

John crossed his arms across his chest, eyes narrowed and foot tapping. “Fine,” he said finally, spinning around on his heel to face the dishwasher. “But we better get super nasty.”

“Deal,” Nick replied, smacking John’s ass as he passed. “Don’t take too long.”


	23. In which RJ and Deacon sneak around NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of RJ and Deacon sneaking around to fuck before they told anyone they were together. So you get this. NSFW for the situation. It cuts away before any real smut unfortunately.

At exactly 2:00 pm, Deacon disappeared to the men’s bathroom on the first floor, tucked down a hallway behind the pet store. Preston shot him a smile and a wave as he passed but got nothing in return. Exactly 10 minutes later, RJ disappeared down the same hallway, eyes casting around as if he was worried he was being followed. Curious but paying it little mind, Preston simply returned to his work. 

The door opened then shut with a thud followed by a short click as the lock slid into place. Leaning against the wall, Deacon stood -- adorned in his wig and signature shades, fly on his jeans already unzipped and dick already half-hard. The hand rest on the slight bulge made it quite obvious why. 

RJ’s mouth watered and went dry all at the same time as his heart raced. The, “I’ve been waiting for you,” that Deacon hummed just made the problem worse. They’d never done something like this before. At one of their places, sure, but at work? That was a whole new level of risk. And, well, no one even knew about what they had going here. If they got caught there would be a lot of explaining to do. 

“Cat got your tongue, MacCready?” Deacon purred, pushing himself off the wall and towards RJ with an ease that seemed unreal and entirely too alluring. They were in a damn bathroom for fuck’s sake. “That’d be quite a shame. I had plans for that tongue.” As he reached RJ, Deacon cupped his cheek with his hand, thumb catching on his lips.

Hands going clammy and fighting the urge to cough, RJ shook his head. “No. Just… Do we really have to sneak around like this? I mean, we could just tell John. That’d make everything easier right?” 

Deacon seemed a bit put off by the topic but indulged RJ anyways. “Okay so let’s say we tell him. What do we say? It’s not like we’re together really. So we say, hey John. Just a heads up but your two best pals, who’ve been with you through your shittiest years, are totally fucking now.” It was impossible to read his expression behind those damn shades but his tone was stone cold serious. 

RJ felt his heart plummet. No, that probably wouldn’t go well at all. “It’s not like we haven’t both fucked him. How bad could it be?” Regardless, he allowed Deacon to walk him back to the wall. As he leaned against the tiles, RJ sunk to his knees. 

Behind the sunglasses, Deacon’s eyes drifted closed. “I doubt he ever face fucked you as hard as I want to right now.” His hand brushed away the snapback RJ almost constantly wore and tangled his fingers in his hair. “The question is, do you want that too?” His breath caught just a hitch as RJ tugged away gently, meant to test the strength of the grip not to free himself. When he settled back against Deacon’s grip, he allowed himself a hum of approval. 

RJ neglected to answer instead leaning forward and pushing his lips to the outline of Deacon’s dick in his boxers. Even as his heart hammered in his chest, Deacon pulled the man back by the grip in his hair. “I want to hear it. Do you want this?”

“If you don’t make me see stars and choke within the next 10 minutes I’m gonna be pissed, D.”


	24. This entire AU is gay. On this episode: Preston/Sturges

When he’d started this job, the idea of running a pet shop had sounded awesome! Getting to take care of pets all day and ensuring that they went to good homes? Perfect! The reality was… not so perfect. Despite the store constantly having several people inside, almost no one bought one of the pets. The supplies sold decently but caring for so many animals cost money. And he could only afford it if people actually bought one of them from time to time. 

Today, a Tuesday at 11pm, there was almost no one in the mall. Preston’s head was propped up on his closed fist, eyes only half opened. Nothing needed doing and there was no one to help. He’d have pulled out his phone but, well, it was in bad taste to be on your phone while working. Plus it was dead.

When someone walked in, Preston perked up. Wasn’t really the best idea to look bored as shit on the job, huh? The new potential customer wore a grease stained white wifebeater and a blue jumpsuit, tied at the waist. Slicked back black hair and impressive sideburns gave off a pretty tough vibe and when he turned his back, his rather impressive shoulder and arm muscles were perfectly on display. It took all Preston had not to visibly swoon.

He was knelt down in front of one of the dog cages, fingers wrapping around the wire. “Hey there, little guy,” he said to the german shepherd puppy. “What’s your name?” And, god, he had a southern drawl too. Usually that would be a bad thing but on him? Oh boy.

“He doesn’t have one,” Preston called, walking out from behind the counter to join him. “Well, he had one but it was rather cruel so… It’s up to whoever adopts him to chose a new one.” Seriously, what kind of name is Dogmeat. The only world that would be remotely acceptable in was one where all laws of society were completely demolished. Some kinda post-apocalyptic wasteland or something maybe.

Giving up on trying to get the dog’s attention, the stranger turned to Preston instead, extending his hand. “And what about your name, handsome?” The fact that he managed to ask with a totally straight face (sans the smile that had been there since the moment he walked in) only served to make the blush that raced to Preston’s cheeks even worse.

He spluttered for a moment before getting a grip of himself and shaking his hand. “Preston Garvey.” His hands were calloused and his grip strong. A foreign sensation for him but not entirely unpleasant.

“Layin it on a bit too thick, huh?” he asked, laughing when Preston nodded. “Sorry ‘bout that. Name’s Sturges. Work at that auto shop down the road. On my lunch break and heard that there were some cute… dogs here. Thought I’d come check them out for myself.” 

Preston wasn’t entirely sure how to answer and thus, didn’t. “Well, I should probably get back to work soon,” Sturges mentioned, checking his watch as he said so. “Reckon it won’t be too long until we see each other again, Garvey.”

As he left and Preston returned back to his spot behind the counter all he could hope for were two things: 1, that they would indeed see each other again sometime perhaps when they were both off work and 2, that it wouldn’t be anywhere near this damn mall. He had no intention of becoming the next Nick and John. 


	25. Massages are sexy NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick gives John a nice massage and John is way into it

“I dunno, Nicky. You might crush me,” John teased as he laid back on their bed, dressed only in a pair of boxers. “Then again, it would be a great way to die.” Nick stood beside the bed, waiting as his boyfriend wiggled around on the mattress until he seemed comfortable. “So come on and crush me to death.” 

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Nick climbed onto the bed, dropping to his hands and knees over John. “Don’t you ever shut up?” He asked, leaving no time to answer before leaning down and catching John’s lips in a kiss, tugging at his bottom lip as he pulled away again.

John followed him up happily with a hum and closed eyes. “Not if you kiss me like that when I don’t. I really don’t think you understand positive and negative reinforcement thing,” he replied with a content hum as Nick settled back to sit on his groin. “You tryin’ to start something, Valentine? Cause I was under the impression that was gonna be a massage.” 

John was propped up on his elbows now, eyebrows scrunched together like he was thinking real hard about this. None to gently, Nick pushed him back on the bed. “Shut up and stay down.” To his credit, John did as he was told for once. 

Nick didn’t bother with any of that fancy stuff like lotions and oils. Cause, let’s be real, this was a massage not rocket science. His fingers started first by tracing the skin between each rib, pulling the skin with them as they dug in. With a happy little sigh, John tipped his head back and closed his eyes. 

As his hands met again in the middle of his chest they ran down John’s stomach before pushing up again, digging the heels of his palms in once he got past the stomach, not wanting to hurt him. Anywhere his right hand touched, his left soon followed. The nature of the prosthetic meant he could feel nothing with his right and he wanted to feel it all tonight. Wanted to worship John the way he deserved. 

Oblivious to literally anything else in the world, Nick focused on his mission to trace every muscle in John’s chest, spending a bit of extra time on his collar bones and nipples, rolling the piercings beneath his thumbs. 

Only when John arched up into his touch with a particular loud whine did reality come back to Nick. And the reality was, John was pretty damn turned on. His mouth hung open, breath just a tad ragged and erection pressing against Nick.

Letting nothing but the slight curl of his lips let on that he had noticed, Nick slid his synthetic hand down along John’s stomach, rubbing gently against the tent in his pants. Meanwhile the other hand continued to dig into his muscles. John’s fingers dug into Nick’s arm as his hips rose to press again the hand.

Nick chuckled quietly. “Relax, babe,” he instructed, pulling John’s fingers free. “Just enjoy the massage.” Unable to do much else, he just nodded desperately and let himself relax into the bed again. 

It was with great delight that Nick pulled every content sigh and moan from his lover’s lips, continuing his slow rubbing and caressing. It was a beautiful sight. Nick wished it could have lasted forever. But there were other, much more beautiful sights he was interested in witnessing tonight. 

Without warning, Nick ground his palm against John’s erection more forcefully, causing the man to openly whimper. “Oh god, Nick. Don’t tease me like that, come on.”

“Shh,” he whispered into John’s ear as he did it again. And again, slowing only for a few seconds between each time. He was getting closer and closer to coming completely undone and Nick had no plans to stop until he got there.

Nick’s left hand was still splayed across John’s chest when he came, lifting off the bed and rolling his hips into Nick’s other hand. Ever muscled look beautiful all tensed up like this and Nick didn’t pause his exploration for a moment, desperate to drag on this orgasm as long as possible so he could trace every single muscle. 

All good things do, of course, come to an end, though and when he was finally spent, John laid in the bed motionless for a good long while, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead and gasping for breath. When he finally spoke it was to say, “You’re welcome to do that again any time. Please.”

Nick watched him, content smile playing on his lips and hand dipped into his own pants now. “My pleasure.”


End file.
